


Spellbound

by baeconandeggs, baekyall



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekyall/pseuds/baekyall
Summary: Baekhyun has a crush on a library regular, a boy whose hair color changes with the months, and attempts to woo him one secret admirer’s note at a time.





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
>   
> 
> **Author's Note:** Thanks to the lovely prompter for giving me the freedom to create this story, to J (@ferretselca on twitter) who swooped in at the last minute to help beta, to the supportive BAE mods who kept me going, and to anyone who gives this fic a chance. 
> 
> Sharing my work with everyone in a festival like this one feels surreal, and I hope it proves to be a good year for everyone reading and participating in BAE! Sending lots of love to everyone 💌 
> 
> edit: there's a russian translation of this fic now: (https://ficbook.net/readfic/8404019)  
> Thank you to lovely kate (@kvslva on twitter) for all the hard work, i really appreciate it! ❤️

Baekhyun hurries to click the spacebar of his laptop, effectively silencing the low thrum of music that had been playing from the device. He knows the rules -- and he’s acutely aware that playing music out loud while he's working is against them.

 

But he never actually abides these regulations, not until he's zoned out and accidentally making direct, uncomfortable eye contact with his manager. The older man sighs and drops off a stack of books at edge of his counter, kind eyes plagued with fatigue, smile laced with soft annoyance.

 

"What have we told you about the music?" Minseok purses his lips, and his voice lowers to a whisper, meant only for Baekhyun to hear. "Listen, I like it, but the boss doesn't. Blasting your lo-fi hip-hop bullshit in the campus library doesn't sit well with him, Baekhyun." 

 

He lets a smile break out before he can stop it, nodding solemnly at his manager, both features offsetting the other. It shouldn't be funny, but when he hears the older man talk badly about both his inferior music taste and their crotchety boss in the same sentence, it really is -- especially to a sleep-deprived college student.

 

"Of course. I won't do it again." 

 

"Thanks," Minseok cracks his neck, and Baekhyun winces. "Is there anyone who can put these back? I can't reach the top shelf so I came to see if Sehun was working." 

 

Baekhyun gestures to the empty counter, shrugging. Normally, the taller boy would be lingering around the circulation desk in between his rounds of organizing shelves, voice low and excited and full of dorm anecdotes. But (to Baekhyun's dismay and slight boredom) the freshman had an exam coming up, and so he'd bailed on his shift to cram. 

 

"Today, we are operating sans Sehun, sadly." 

 

"Sans Sehun sadly?" Minseok quirks his eyebrows up, already-wide eyes reflecting amusement. Baekhyun's stomach sizzles with gratification at Minseok's reaction, knowing that he's made the older chuckle, even when his eyes look tired and his neck still seems to be stiff. "Nice alliteration. Doesn't get you out of putting these books away, though." 

 

Baekhyun fakes a pout but stands anyway, stretching out his back and making sure to fix the nametag on his jacket so that it reads straight across, neat and perfectly legible, just in case anyone in the library could possibly want to know his name. 

 

Deep down, he knows he's adjusting it for one certain person -- for a boy with large hands and gentle eyes, with hair that changes with the months and a smile that makes Baekhyun's legs wobble. 

 

"I'll hurry back," Baekhyun mimics a salute and scoops the novels into his arms,cherishes the tiny smile it earns him.

 

He likes his manager, really, and it's mostly to do with how the library feels infinitely more peaceful when Minseok is the one patrolling instead of Junmyeon. 

 

Lugging six large books around _ should _ be the most harrowing part of his task -- instead, it's Baekhyun's attempt to look half decent while he does it, hoping he'll catch the eye of the handsome boy who's currently ignoring his existence, completely absorbed in his laptop. Being overlooked by him is nothing new, though, and Baekhyun sighs quietly as he tries his very hardest to get the books on the top of the shelf. 

 

Life is hard when there's always a beautiful boy sat in the corner of the library, just close enough to see from the desk, just far enough to never truly make eye contact, to never communicate. 

 

Of course, Baekhyun had tried -- he'd prided himself on being rather outgoing, even if the sight of the lanky boy makes his throat constrict and palms go sweaty. Being outgoing, however, only consisted of Baekhyun asking him questions while checking out his books. Mostly, his attempts at flirting end up failing, resulting in him looking like a fool while Sehun giggles in the back, all too aware of his inner turmoil. 

 

The first time he'd mustered up the courage to actually speak to him, his words tumbled out before his brain could filter any of his panic, leaving him choking on air and wishing to have said _anything else_.

 

"Oh, you like fantasy novels? I love them as well! Super, uh, fantastical." 

 

Baekhyun watched in anticipation as the boy's eyes trailed over his face softly, serenely. His hair was a light blue that month, and it made Baekhyun's tongue feel heavier in his mouth, made each second left waiting for a response feel like an hour. 

 

"It's for class," his voice, deep and earnest, set Baekhyun's pulse thrumming. "I prefer non-fiction, normally."

 

Baekhyun laughed and nodded, head filling with sparks of color and thoughts, a jumbled mess of ideas telling him to bring up a documentary he'd seen recently, to compliment the boy's new hair color, to stop looking at his wide hands and focus on checking out the book in front of him. 

 

"Not even Harry Potter? You look like a Hufflepuff to me," Baekhyun thought the comment might be charming or cute, but the boy only offered back a small smile, slightly forced, and brushed a stray blue curl away from his forehead. "As for me, I'm a gryffindor."

 

There goes any semblance of dignity the shorter had grasped on to, evaporating in the awkward distance between them. He coughed to drown out the lack of response as he hurried to finish up the transaction, nerves overcoming all the confidence he was relying on. 

 

_ Park Chanyeol _ , his student ID read. It was a pretty name for a pretty boy. Baekhyun scanned it and handed the plastic back to him, eyes downcast and lips pouty. He just wanted the taller to  _ respond _ , was that too much to ask for?

 

"Have a nice day." 

 

Then, like a starstruck idiot, Baekhyun's hopes soared again, carrying him away on their wings, dragging him into a sky dyed the same blue as Chanyeol's hair. He must've been floating, he's sure, because there’s no way the taller was smiling so directly at him, eyes crinkled against tan skin, lips pulled tight across perfect teeth. 

 

It felt like he'd been shot in the heart, and he lets himself dream that, maybe one day, Chanyeol will finally say his name, will meet his gaze across the library, will admit that he's  _ definitely _ a Hufflepuff.

 

But that doesn't happen -- Chanyeol stays as quiet as ever, sips his americanos in the corner, and frowns at the laptop in front of him daily. It should probably annoy Baekhyun that the taller is so determined to  _ not _ look at him, but it doesn't -- it only makes eye contact and lingering smiles ever so precious, makes Baekhyun try harder than he's ever had to before.

 

He kind of likes the way Chanyeol's eyes gleam so bright yet remain so hard to catch. As much as his friends roll their eyes when he brings up the mystery boy in the library, it feels like he has something precious blooming in his chest, fear and joy and relief tingling his fingertips at the thought of their tiny interactions. Chanyeol makes his heart pound, and he likes it.

 

He's figured out that Chanyeol isn't unkind, just a little awkward, and that's fine. Baekhyun is prone to rushing into things, to seeing someone smile at him once and imagining a myriad of futures together, to falling head over heels for people he's only ever admired from afar. 

According to Sehun, it's probably not healthy, but Baekhyun can't help that he  _ feels _ , that every stranger he passes is a potential life-changer to him.

 

Which is why he focuses on his homework, forbidding himself from daydreaming or people watching. His brain needs to be used to actually study today, so he nods to himself and gets comfortable in his chair, eyes locked on the textbook before of him. 

 

He needs to memorize conjugations and he needs to memorize them quickly -- his shift ends in less than an hour and his next class starts immediately afterwards. As much as he loves Italian, sometimes his professor can expect slightly too much, and Baekhyun is desperately trying to keep his head above the water, to maintain his status as moderately-fluent. 

 

So he convinces himself that he really does know how the condizionale passato works, mumbling the conjugation endings under his breath as people shuffle by his counter quietly. He's almost got everything down, truly, but then he hears someone clearing their throat from above him. 

 

He looks up, eyes meeting Chanyeol's big brown ones, and the boy offers him a smile, cheeks puffing around a dimple that Baekhyun has never noticed -- it kind of hurts now that he has.  

 

"I just need these, please." 

 

He sets two books down on the counter, and Baekhyun marvels at the at how his strong gaze burns into him. He's never felt Chanyeol actually  _ looking _ at him before, and his heart sets a pace that he's afraid his body won't keep up with.

 

"Sure!"

 

He sounds eager, he knows, but it's because he  _ is _ . Chanyeol's pretty eyes and lips and newly-dyed light gray hair -- he's so big, so gangly, yet so delicate, so soft. He's hard to process and place, and so Baekhyun doesn't even try. Instead, he timidly watches Chanyeol's fingers drum a beat on the counter as he scans the books, hoping that whatever lame thing his brain blurts out will earn a response from the taller. 

 

"I like the gray," he ignores that his hands are a little shaky, ignores that Chanyeol could definitely notice if he tried hard enough. "It's cute."

"Really?" he sounds incredulous, almost happy, and every fiber of Baekhyun's being is electrified. 

 

The shorter nods hesitantly, watching the flattered look settle into the delicate lines of Chanyeol’s face.

 

"Honestly, I feel a bit pale with it. My mom told me I look indefinitely ill." 

Baekhyun lets himself laugh at that, really laugh, and it comes out as goofy as he'd expected. Chanyeol doesn't seem to mind, though, doesn't seem bothered by the prolonged eye contact that's being shared, and Baekhyun bites his lip to stop a smile from overtaking his entire face. The library is far too warm for him to breathe comfortably, his ears positively scorching, and Baekhyun watches as the smile dims from the taller's face and moves to rest comfortably on his eyes. 

 

"Maybe looking sickly will be the next trend -- I think it works on you at least." 

 

Chanyeol shakes his head, smiling, and Baekhyun thinks that this is good, unbelievably good. The taller is so easygoing today, so charming, and he wants to make him laugh again, wants to actually  _ talk _ to Chanyeol. 

 

“We’ll see if it shows up in magazines next month,” he’s collecting the books from the counter before Baekhyun can memorize the exact shade of his hair, the tone of his voice. “Thanks a lot. Have a nice day!” 

 

Then he’s gone, a wisp of smoke in the air that evaporated as soon as it came. Baekhyun frowns at his reflection on the counter, at the look of disappointment that greets him.

 

Back to conjugations, he supposes. He almost wishes Sehun was here to tease him about how odd that interaction was, if only to stop his own brain from replaying it until his shift ends. 

 

**\--**

 

Chanyeol pulls up the Starbucks app on his phone, absentmindedly taking note of the points he’s acquired, equally parts proud and horrified at the amount of caffeine he allows himself each day. It’s an addiction, he knows, but it’s not as if anyone is stopping him (especially not his sister, constantly stealing his rewards when he least expects it.) 

 

Three people make up the line in front of him today, and, despite ordering the same drink every time, he still takes a moment to scan the menu, even though most of his head is riddled with thoughts of what had just happened. 

 

The nice library guy had complimented his hair, much to the chagrin of all his close friends and family, who had been bullying him over the metallic choice since he’d first told them it was happening. But library boy, the one with a loud laugh and a pretty smile and eyes that sometimes linger on him, thought it was cute. He tries to picture the the boy’s name tag, tries to place familiar letters with his face, but comes up blank.

 

They’d interacted plenty of times before, but Chanyeol had always focused on the way the boy’s eyes darted around his face and the library quickly, nervous movements shielded by long eyelashes and delicate lips. 

 

“Let me guess,” a deep voice makes him leap from his thoughts, jolted back into the real world for a moment. “Grande iced americano with almond milk? Name for the order is Chanyeol?” 

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes and smile are both wide, and Chanyeol relaxes from his momentary panic, smiling back. Despite the feigned annoyance in the barista’s voice, there is nothing to worry about, not when he steps up to the counter and is only given a tiny laugh in response. 

 

“I was zoned out, sorry. And yes -- about the order, I mean.” 

 

“Contemplating the purpose of life or something?” 

 

So he shrugs, noticing the way Kyungsoo’s eyebrows crumple together as he writes the order and name out on the side of the cup.

 

“You know, just thinking,” he scans his phone as Kyungsoo hands off the cup to his coworker. “Anyways, have a good day. See you tomorrow, Soo!” 

 

Kyungsoo purses his lips in response, a fond smile threatening to overtake his features despite his best efforts to keep a straight face. He claims to hate the nickname, but Chanyeol never shies away from a chance to embarrass his favorite acquaintance and barista.

 

The transaction is done, and he’s sending another smile toward the counter as he walks away, knowing he’ll see the boy again within a few days because of the shorter’s inevitable shift and Chanyeol’s inevitable need for caffeine. 

 

Their vague, oddly comforting relationship is a constant in both of their lives, and Chanyeol likes it -- mostly, he likes routine.

 

He likes going to class and getting a snack at the same time each day, likes nodding toward the boy sitting at the library’s circulation desk as he settles down to study for the afternoon, likes calling his mom on his walk back to his apartment that night. Maybe the constant changing of his hair color was the only way he felt comfortable taking a step out of his usual day. He prefers a planned life, orchestrated familiarity. 

 

He likes having everything around him feel comfortable, easy-going, never unsettling. Holding an actual conversation with the shy boy at the desk had made him feel off kilter, had made him stop for a moment too long and contemplate the way his laugh rang through that quiet library. 

 

“Order for Chanyeol,” he picks his head up again, an awkward smile gracing his features for a second as he grabs his coffee off the counter and reaches for a straw. 

 

"Thanks."

 

He’s already studied for a few hours, checked out the books he needed for next week, and now has iced coffee in his hand -- all is right in his world, he thinks. At least, as right as it can be when his phone is chiming off at breakneck speed.

 

**Jongdad**

_ i just saw your text from this morning.........do i really have to go to your dumbass star viewing party tonight? i thought you were joking about that................. _

 

**Jongdad**

_ ACTUALLY before you answer that, i want you to ask yourself a question _

 

**Jongdad**

_ who cleaned up your puke on the kitchen floor last week? ME. it was ME!!!!  _

 

**Jongdad**

_ when will you learn to be grateful that you have the world's best roommate? when will you stop dragging me to look at saturn's rings?  _

 

**Jongdad**

_ When I Die. Then You Will Realize _

 

He should be annoyed that his best friend and roommate wants to skip out on him tonight, but the boy isn't wrong -- just last week Chanyeol had seen a horrifically tragic movie, cried his eyes out, and drank far too much all in a short span of time. Jongdae had come home to him sobbing on the kitchen floor, gagging and coughing, and the older boy promptly cleaned both him and the linoleum up.

 

_ An angel _ , Chanyeol had cooed at him, making kissy noises and trying to cuddle the smaller boy on the walk back to his room.  _ Disgusting little nerd, _ Jongdae had called him in response, tucking the blanket under his armpits and making sure he was lying on his side. 

 

Sighing, he types out a quick response:  _ don't even think about coming if you're going to try and make more uranus jokes. you're banned, so don't even try!!!! just get some rest instead.  _

 

Maybe he does owe him one, after all. 

 

**\--**

 

"So you're telling me that you just stare at this guy and hope he'll one day confess his undying love for you? That's your entire game plan?" 

 

Baekhyun takes a bite, acting as though he can't hear his best friend's breathing getting lighter, dissolving into giggles and wheezes at his own words. Jongin thumps his shoulder hard, hand sturdy and momentum propelled forward by his teasing voice. Maybe the crunching of lettuce will shield him from Jongin's incredulous laughter and fumbling hands, after all. 

 

"Hey, this cobb salad is really good. Do you want a bite with avocado on it?" This doesn't stunt the conversation as much as he'd hoped, so he grasps for a last chance at making Jongin disregard all thoughts about his current crush. "French fun fact, avocado and lawyer are the same word -- un avocat. Isn't that funny?"

 

Jongin's laughter only grows tenfold, and now there are people in the cafe turning to look at them. Baekhyun wants to disappear into the floor, wants to melt away until he's just a faint memory to everyone surrounding them.

 

"Okay, okay, let's get this clear," Jongin quiets down, thankfully, and Baekhyun takes a timid sip of his water. His throat is exceptionally dry today. "There's a cute boy who sits in the library, and you like to look at him sometimes? That's fine. I mean, it's a little weird, but it's fine. I'm only judging as much as I reasonably should." 

 

"Yeah, I've heard that from Sehun before. Daily, actually." 

 

Jongin's smile falters, and Baekhyun can tell that he feels a little guilty for laughing so loudly in his face. Unlike Sehun who, despite his younger age, is ruthless in teasing him, Jongin has a softer heart for him. They were dorm roommates freshman year -- and after a year of hating each other simply because of how shared their space was at all times, Baekhyun found that Jongin is actually pretty nice to be around (when there's a choice on how frequent they interact.) 

 

"Hey, it's really not that weird," Jongin sips his cold brew and then immediately pinches his lips together in disgust, as if he'd expected anything but the taste of coffee in his mouth. Baekhyun almost laughs. "People get little crushes on each other all the time, even if they've never really interacted. What do they say, there's all those raging hormones and shit?" 

 

"Raging hormones are for kids in high school, Jongin," Baekhyun stabs at the chunks of egg in his salad, fork clanking loudly against his plate. "I should be smart enough to not get infatuated with people who I'm too scared to talk to. I should be smart enough to stop myself from crushing on anyone who says anything nice to me." 

 

"Well, if that's the issue, just talk to him! Put yourself out there. Flirt. Then it will be an actual crush, and you won't feel stupid about any of it."

 

Baekhyun stares at his friend, trying to gauge if this is all a joke or not. Jongin takes a swig of his coffee, this time hiding his displeasure, and brushes a tiny piece of hair off of his forehead.

 

"You know me. If I like someone, I interact with them; I make sure they know. And it  _ works _ ," his eyebrows are raised, challenging Baekhyun to dispute this fact. "Just be confident. You're adorable, you're smart, and you already like him. Why would he ever say no? Just go for it." 

 

"Yeah, but I'm not  _ you, _ " Baekhyun hates the sad look that drifts across his friend's face, hates disappointing him because he's too scared to do the things he so desperately wants. "I flirt with people as a joke, but I can’t do it for  _ real _ . You know that." 

 

Now it's his turn to fall silent in disappointment, trying to look as pitiful as possible while he eats his salad. Jongin's ideas and words are infectious -- it's dangerous to let himself be sweet talked into stepping out of his comfort zone by his friend's confident smile and casual words. 

 

"I know, I know. So, do something that works for you. It can be subtle! I just think you'll be happier if you try to approach rather than admiring from afar," Jongin steals a piece of chicken from the edge of his plate, nodding at the choice of salad dressing. "You being happy is all we want, even if we nag to show it." 

 

Of course, he'd end his explanation with something heartwarming. Baekhyun melts under Jongin's loving gaze and sets his fork down, resolute. 

 

"Fine, I'll do something to get his attention," as soon as he's said it, Jongin is moving from side to side in his seat, absolutely gleeful over Baekhyun's plan. "But it'll have to be something that works for me." 

 

**\--**

 

Baekhyun's plan is masterful in both theory and execution. At least, that's what he likes to think.

Majoring in international relations and needing something to supplement it, Baekhyun had devoted himself to learning the only romance languages available at his college, relying on their similarities to help him through. Upon seeing that he'd planned to enroll in French, Spanish, and Italian over the course of his four years, including summers, his mother had a fit and called it excessive.

 

Which, honestly, he can't dispute -- but it comes in handy more often than he'd first thought, which is why he stuck with it. Right now, however, making Chanyeol aware of his feelings without having to directly speak to him and embarrass himself is his goal, and his studies are at the center of it all. 

 

Tiny notes in different languages left on Chanyeol’s usual table -- reminders and compliments and words that hint at Baekhyun himself. It's roundabout and dramatic but, god, that's what Baekhyun wants. He wants to see Chanyeol translate the notes and smile and look up, realization of Baekhyun's silent affections dawning over his handsome face, admiration pooling in his dimple.

 

It's a fantastical daydream, but Baekhyun likes fantasy. He adores worlds that spring to life with nothing more than closed eyes and fleeting hope, treasures traversing new worlds and claiming a tiny part of them for his own heart. He hopes that this too will be a page out of the book that his mind writes, that this will cast a light over his hidden thoughts and bring them to life in Chanyeol's knowing eyes. 

 

So he writes his first note in Spanish, puts it delicately on the table where he knows Chanyeol will be in mere minutes, and settles back at his circulation desk as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. His heart is pounding so violently that he only registers Sehun's voice directed toward him, unable to make out the actual words being said.

 

"What?" 

 

Sehun rolls his eyes and walks a further foot closer to the desk, annoyance shown in the way his body squares up with the counter itself. He's young, but he's tall and broad, perfect for showing annoyance in the slouch of his shoulders almost unconsciously. 

 

"I asked if you'd gotten around to sorting out the returned books yet," his thick eyebrows furrow as he peeks into the box next to Baekhyun, filled to the top with books. "But I see you haven't. Too busy littering on the tables to be bothered with work, I guess?" 

 

Baekhyun sputters, unable to say anything that refutes this accusation. Instead, he turns red and grabs the box with a strength he wasn't aware he had. 

 

"I'll sort them right now," he hopes Sehun isn't able to connect the dots of what's happening here, though he knows the tall boy has already figured it out if the teasing smirk on his face is any indicator. "Just drop it, please." 

 

"It's cute that you're actually trying to make a move," Sehun pats the top of the smaller's head fondly, taking full advantage of Baekhyun's seated position and the counter between them, smile full of sunshine. "Thought I'd have to watch you freak out whenever he checks out books for the rest of my college career." 

 

"Oh, god." 

 

"The worst, though, is when he dyes his hair -- he walks in and you act  _ shocked _ that he looks good in this color too, as if attractive people aren't attractive no matter what. Like, yeah, obviously he'll still look good, he's hot as fu--"

 

" _ Stop _ ," Baekhyun whispers sharply, eyes trained on the familiar silhouette in the distance.

 

Chanyeol never uses the entrance to the library next to his circulation desk, opting to use the side door instead, and now he's making his way to this wing of the library. Baekhyun can't tell if he's shaking from fear or excitement, but he does know that Sehun's hand is moving away from the top of his head reluctantly, watching in fear along with him. 

 

The tallest boy sets down his coffee and ruffles his silver hair, now a fading grey near the roots, as he settles into his chair. Only a few seconds later and he's lifting his laptop out of his backpack, and then he's noticed it -- right where his laptop usually sits, a tiny piece of paper, innocently laid upon the table. 

 

His large hands pick it up, eyes scanning the unfamiliar words over and over -- Baekhyun feels as though his chest will burst at this rate, mind and body unbearably anxious as he studies the emotions that wash over Chanyeol's face. Confusion seems dominant, though Baekhyun can see something else simmering below his obvious facial cues. He hopes it's something sweet and shy, something that will match the blossoming feeling in his own cheeks.

 

Instead, the scrap of paper is tossed back onto the table, making room for Chanyeol's laptop. Sehun cringes when the boy sets down his notebooks on top of it, leaving it completely covered and forgotten after just a moment's contemplation. Undoubtedly, both the paper and all regard for who might have written it is tossed away in mere seconds.

 

Baekhyun feels rather crumpled, too.

 

\--

 

**Nini**

_ don't be sad my little angel!! _

 

**Nini**

_ did he even read it? maybe he didn't realize what it was? _

 

**Nini**

_ maybe he's stupid? is he stupid, baek?  _

 

**Nini**

_ write one more note before you give up... he could just be stupid  _

 

_ \-- _

 

The courage he'd first felt has since deflated, leaving him nervous and worried to attempt another note-leaving scheme. Chanyeol had barely blinked at the first piece of paper, seemingly unaware of what it meant, or just didn’t care. Baekhyun hopes it's the former, hopes that Chanyeol's absent mindedness (rather than cruelty) is getting the best of him. 

 

So, he leaves another the next day and the next and the next. Each time, the tall boy looks at them confusedly before tucking them out of Baekhyun’s sight, and each day Baekhyun drafts another. Only ever tiny sentiments of his dedication to work, of the way his hair looks when the wind is blowing hard outside, about the way his smile is beautiful, facial structure intriguing to study.   

 

After a week of notes, Chanyeol's eyes light up in recognition at the scrap of paper on the table, obviously recognizing its similarity to the ones left in days gone by. Still, he pushes it out of the way, opting to free up the space on the table for his work instead. 

 

Another shift of ignoring the tug of sadness in his chest and acting as though he's not affected by this situation, even when Sehun's usual teasing eyes look at him warily, carefully. It's a little embarrassing, he knows, but it's fine -- he'd put himself out there just as Jongin had suggested (insisted, his mind supplies) and he feels proud that he'd even tried. At least, he wants to feel good about trying; in reality, he wants to hide under the desk and avoid thoughts of Chanyeol for a few days altogether.

 

Instead of allowing his thoughts to linger on the notes and their unresponsive receiver, Baekhyun lets his French playlist play from his laptop, gentle voices and light piano filtering its way through the library, as soft as the light settled on top of the counter, as delicate as the way Baekhyun thumbs to the next page of his assigned reading. 

 

Even if his attempts are subtle, cheesy, and probably getting him nowhere, it’s enough. 

Only when said boy packs up his belongings and lumbers toward the circulation desk with a slip of paper nestled in his large hands does Baekhyun  _ really _ start to panic. 

 

“Hey, uh, my name’s Chanyeol.”

 

_ I know _ , Baekhyun wants to say.  _ Your name is Chanyeol, and I have a ridiculous crush on you. _

He stays silent, not fully trusting himself to form intelligent responses just yet. 

  
“I have a question,” big brown eyes meet his for the briefest of seconds before they flit to read his name tag, recognition settling in the tiny laugh lines that crease Chanyeol's face. “Baekhyun, right? Sorry, I kind of forgot. Anyways, uh, do you know who sits at my table before I get here?” 

 

He knows he's gone red, ears burning, tips of his fingers tingling. He'd said his name, and, of course, it sounded absolutely beautiful coming from him.

 

“Before. . .” Baekhyun coughs and regrets it immediately, choking on his own words. “Before you get here? Who uses your table?”

 

_ Baekhyun. _ A name he'd owned as long as he could remember, a symphony he'd heard thousands of times before -- the notes are rearranged, tuned as they were always meant to be. He feels cheesy and stupid, but he's enchanted. 

 

“Yeah, the table. Someone keeps leaving class notes or something behind? It's been happening for like a week, and I'm sure they'll need them eventually.”

 

“ _ Oh _ ,” he tries to avoid eye contact and makes the mistake of looking toward his hair. It's messy and gray, dull compared to the once-vibrant silver. It’s still pretty. Baekhyun gulps. “Yeah, I thought I noticed something different on the table. That makes sense.”

 

Dumbfounded, speechless, shocked -- Baekhyun can't quite decipher how he feels, though he knows it's a mix of something along those lines. 

 

Chanyeol had actually managed to convince himself that the notes, carefully written and consisting of only a few sentences each, were class notes belonging to a forgetful student.

It's almost comical; Baekhyun wishes he could laugh. 

 

“Yeah, is there any way for me to get them back to their owner?” Chanyeol is earnest and sweet, truly hoping to help out this theoretical student, and the shorter's pulse spins into absurdity.

 

He's come this far -- he may as well drop another hint, make it completely obvious that it's him. There's nothing left to lose (except his dignity, but that's already dangling by a thin thread, he reasons.)

 

“There’s no one who sits there, as far as I know,” Baekhyun smiles as sweetly as he can muster, trying to memorize the way Chanyeol mimics him out of instinct. “They'd have to be in the library for most of the day to slip by me. Especially since your spot is so close to my desk.” 

 

Chanyeol shrugs at this, not questioning anything Baekhyun had just said. Too naïve, too helpful, too clueless -- it's suffocating to the shorter, makes him struggle to take a deep enough breath. Or maybe that's just Chanyeol's smile taking over control of his central nervous system. 

 

“Oh, damn, okay. Well, thanks anyway,” Chanyeol slips one arm out from under his backpack straps, using his free hand to put the note in a side pocket. “I'll hold onto them just in case. Tell me if you see anyone, okay? See you, Baekhyun!” 

 

“Yeah, see you.”

 

Right now, the whole world is a haze of foggy sky the color of Chanyeol’s leaden gray hair, freeing and stifling at the same time, beautiful and terrifying. The familiar library has opened up, light filtering in easily, entire structure ashine with Chanyeol’s smile, Chanyeol’s voice saying his name. Fluttering hearts and stuttering pulses line the shelves, their owner smiling against the back of his hand to hide the fleeting adrenaline that interaction had sparked inside him. 

 

\--  

 

“Yesterday, at work, there was a breakthrough,” Baekhyun is giddy, covering his mouth with his free hand and stabilizing the phone up to his ear with the other. “I’m telling you! This is  _ major _ progress!”

 

He’s walking across campus toward the library, hoping that no one is listening in on his excited whispers. Though, the first flowers had finally started to bloom and trees began budding the night before, so Baekhyun presumes that everyone is a bit preoccupied with the thought of spring to care much about his crush knowing his name.

 

“ _ Major _ ? How major? I need details,” Jongin’s voice is far away and crackling, no doubt stuck in the depths of the statistics building -- he’s definitely abandoned his calculations to gossip right now. “Major as in, we sucked each other’s dicks in the back of the library? You have a dinner date with him? You have his phone number? He’s texting you right now and you need to hang up to flirt back? I understand if it’s the last one.” 

 

Baekhyun’s mind races, only mildly mortified at Jongin’s jumping to conclusions -- part of him is entertained.

 

“Okay, maybe not  _ that _ major,” Jongin sighs at this, and Baekhyun smiles. Jongin is so dramatic, so acutely sensitive, but he loves him beyond words, especially when he gets like this over nothing. “He knows my name. And he’s been keeping the notes.” 

 

“Oh, honey,” Jongin’s voice is even farther away now, as if he’s left the phone call completely. Baekhyun strains to hear him, furrowing his brows and sidestepping an oncoming bike at the same time. 

 

“What?” 

  
“You’re killing me,” he laughs loudly and it makes Baekhyun’s ears thrum for a split second, shocked at the sudden intensity. “I’ll help you, okay? You need it. Let me help you, my sweet little angel.” 

 

Baekhyun wants to protest but, honestly, the thought of Chanyeol saying his name, knowing his name, remembering his name -- the thought of the notes being kept with the taller, able to be translated and understood whenever he decides to finally wisen up, it’s given him a boost of confidence, a spark of hope. Maybe it’s all of that, or maybe it’s the spring breeze that pushes him forward. 

 

“Okay, fine,” he says it in fake disappointment, and Jongin’s victory yell is thunderous.

 

“I'll visit you at work later this afternoon,” his tone is lilting, full of both mischief and happiness. “Look as cute as you usually do, please.”

 

The line is cut, so Baekhyun continues his trek to the library, ogling daffodils and tulips along the way. Pinks and oranges and yellows against bright green backdrop, tiny petals dancing in the wind. It’s beautiful, just like the tiny path he takes through a grassy area, newly lush and vibrant. Today is peaceful, he thinks, but that illusion is broken the moment he sees a figure in front of him jogging on the path, long legs and oversized feet slipping against the stone.

 

His mop of hair is a lively pink, just like the cherry blossoms will be in a few days time -- Baekhyun’s filled with amusement and a bit of adoration, too, because it is unmistakably Chanyeol. And he is unmistakably late for  _ something _ , refusing to slow down on the path even as his feet slide unceremoniously against the stone under him.

 

Chanyeol slips a little, arms flailing against the air as he catches himself from falling. The dew that hadn’t fully evaporated from the grass surrounding their path seems to have transferred from his shoes and is making it ridiculously hard for him to stay upright while hurrying along. It’s kind of beautiful, Baekhyun thinks, this ridiculous rose-haired boy running alongside flowers.

 

He holds back a laugh at the way the tall boy is running with no regard to anyone else, at the way Chanyeol’s big hands grip his textbook and iced coffee as though his life depends on it. 

 

“Oh, shit!” Chanyeol’s legs give out, and in attempt to avoid crushing the flowers lining the path, he throws both his textbook and coffee in front of him, dropping to his hands on the path. 

 

Baekhyun stops walking, dumbfounded at the scene in front of him, and watches as the boy pushes himself back up, shaking his head and wiping his hands across his t-shirt. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem hurt, and his belongings seem okay -- though the coffee is completely spilled across the path, useless to the tall boy. 

 

Chanyeol snatches the empty cup and his textbook off of the pavement, and Baekhyun watches him jog once again, this time carefully, much more slowly. Only when his pink hair turns a corner and disappears into a science building does Baekhyun’s brain fully work again, still shocked at everything that just happened. 

 

He thinks of Chanyeol’s quiet calmness, of the aura of peace that he’d always resonated while sitting in the library, and realizes that he doesn’t really know the tall boy that well, after all. He only sees one side of him for a limited time, has only fallen for a sliver of the Chanyeol that exists. 

 

\--

 

Chanyeol slides through the side door to the library, utterly exhausted and sore from this morning’s adventure. A reflection he’d forgotten to print (and proofread) occupied his thoughts as soon as he woke up. It would’ve helped if his printer weren’t broken, and if he had even an ounce of sense in technical grammar. 

 

He’d left himself too many tasks for such little time, honestly, had given up on proofreading altogether. He needed to eat breakfast and get coffee, needed to print out his paper at the student center. And for the first half of the morning, this plan was working out beautifully, oatmeal eaten and coffee in hand as he heads to the student center. But, apparently, he wasn’t the only person in the world who needed to print something this morning -- more like the twentieth person. 

 

Waiting, waiting, and waiting in line, Chanyeol kind of regrets dyeing his hair last night instead of actually working on his homework. He probably  _ could’ve _ proofread, if his boredom hadn’t led to this impulse come to life. But that’s not his main concern, not when it’s finally his turn to print, not when he’s got a ten minute walk ahead of him and only five minutes to get there.

 

He prints, he jogs, he falls, and, eventually, he submits his paper. And now here he is, headed to his familiar section of the library, headed toward his table so that finally, he can collect himself. Except when he moves to sit down, there’s already something on the table, a sure indicator that someone else has claimed his spot. It’s some sort of iced coffee, a little milkier than he usually gets, and written on the side -- he pauses.  _ Chanyeol _ . 

 

His name is on it, he’s positive. He’s about to look around the room for a camera crew pranking him, positive that this is all one big joke, but then he notices an ever familiar sight next to the coffee: a tiny note, written in that delicate handwriting, short and sweet and foreign.

 

It's all too accented for him to understand completely, too confusing compared to the English he remembers from high school -- which, frankly, is not much. But something about this feels oddly new, feels like he’s been blind in the past, unaware of something bigger going on around him.

 

Luckily, google translate exists, and he’s hurrying to see what the words mean, discovering that they’re Italian and definitely aimed toward him. 

 

_ Pink is cute. The flowers are blooming, so smile! Keep working hard!  _

 

There’s a crudely drawn flower at the end of the message and next to it a miniscule heart, scribbled in, an afterthought for the writer. He sits as quickly as he can, disregarding the coffee itself, instead digging through his bag to locate all the notes he’d been collecting, mind scrambling to piece together all that’s happening at the moment. 

 

_ This is my way of telling you that I think you’re cute! Sorry!  _

 

_ You have a really pretty smile  _

 

_ I hope you’re getting enough rest. You always have coffee :(  _

 

_ Don’t stress too much! Also, your hair is cute when it’s gray, too _

 

_ Is your scalp okay? I wonder sometimes. I also wonder if you’ve realized these are secret admirer notes  _

 

_ My friend told me that I should confess to you in a way that works for me, but I have to say, I don’t think I’m doing a good job   _

 

It’s overwhelming, as he’d never considered himself someone who would garner the attention of a secret admirer, who would inspire notes and coffee and affection. It’s sweet, but it’s also terrifying -- Chanyeol isn’t quite sure whether he should be flattered or fearful. What if there’s a murderer trying to lure him to his bloody death? What if the notes had been planted to explain the coffee, and it was actually poisoned? What if there really  _ were _ cameras in the library, all an elaborate prank?

 

The thought of it all is very nice, Chanyeol thinks, but he promptly throws away the coffee, a natural caution simmering in his veins. He types up a quick message to Jongdae, explaining the situation in the simplest way he thinks possible:  _ some girl keeps leaving me notes at library. should i be worried about getting kidnapped? _

 

Of course, with a text that interesting (compared to their regular dinner arguments and cleaning reminders) it takes less than a minute for Jongdae to text back. 

 

**Jongdad**

_ shy love notes? or “i watch you while you sleep” notes? I need details  _

 

**Jongdad**

_ do you know who it is???? who could want a piece of our lovely mr park? keep your eyes peeled for hotties with binoculars _

 

And of course, Jongdae will make it a joke, as he always does. Though the humor does help calm him down -- there’s no need to panic, as most of the notes seemed rather mundane and fond rather than obsessive or eerily specific. And, logically, he knows he can just avoid the library altogether if needed; it’s not as though he’s forced to be here.

 

At the thought, he looks up to the circulation desk, at the small boy who’s always sat there -- Baekhyun his mind supplies. He’d miss talking to him if he stopped coming. No matter how menial their conversation, he’s nice and his smile is even nicer. It’s obvious that he isn’t completely suited for a job in a library, if the low music constantly playing at the desk and his obnoxious laugh are any indication, but Chanyeol’s still glad he has the position, if only for his own sake. 

 

When he looks up toward the boy this time, though, there’s another person at the desk -- not the tall, skinny one who restocks shelves, and neither of the two who wear slacks and make sure no one is goofing off. Instead, he’s dressed casually, a jewel-toned striped shirt tucked into dark wash jeans. While he’s not the tallest, he’s still much bigger than Baekhyun, built a little wider, tanned a bit more. He looks like all the boys on Chanyeol’s instagram feed, the ones who model and take polaroids and intimidate him. 

 

He’s also extremely close to Baekhyun, leaning completely over the counter to whisper in his ear, lips so near Baekhyun’s cheek that Chanyeol feels his breath catch involuntarily -- suddenly, he wonders if the notes were from a girl at all. Baekhyun turns to gawk at the model boy, hand raising to cover his mouth instinctively, slender fingers a soft contrast to the slope of his nose. Chanyeol decides he wouldn’t mind if the notes weren’t written by some girl.  

 

It seems like he’s observed at the pair for a bit too long because next thing he knows, he’s looking model boy straight in the eyes, and there’s a dazzling smile coming his way. 

 

“Hey!” his voice is a little funny, soft and deep at the same time. Chanyeol panics a little, scrambling to hide the evidence of the notes still on the table. Model boy is strutting his way over to him, confidence on full display as he slinks into the chair across from Chanyeol. 

 

“You’re Chanyeol, right?” the boy says it like he knows he’s correct, and Chanyeol’s mind flashes to the notes, to the way the other’s eyes are solely focused on him. “I’m Jongin -- a stats major. Don’t know what I’ll do with it, so please don’t ask. It’ll work out, I’m sure.” 

 

Chanyeol isn’t quite sure what he should even be saying right now, and his mind is racing a thousand miles per minute, piecing together conflicting facts and faces and thoughts. Jongin couldn’t be the one who left the notes, right? He’s too confident, he thinks, but then Jongin’s smiling sweetly at him again, and Chanyeol is kind of unsure. 

 

“Anyways, I’m looking for more clubs to join. My friend Baekhyun, too,” he nods back to the boy, and Chanyeol sees him sorting books religiously, refusing to look up, as if embarrassed that Jongin is going for it like this. “And we just wanted to know if you were in any you recommend?” 

 

He’s looking for ways to hang out with him, he’s bringing along a friend to make it seem casual, and he’s looking at Chanyeol as if begging for an answer. The taller gulps, nodding, and decides that, yeah, this is probably not a coincidence -- it can’t be. Jongin is his secret admirer, and he’s so flattered, so intimidated by this boy’s personality and fashion and interest in him that he can’t possibly say no. 

 

“I’m in astronomy club,” Jongin lights up at this, and his smile glimmers against the neutral tones of the library around them. “We do viewing parties every week, you know, to get people interested in space. The next one is tomorrow, if you want to come.”

 

Jongin’s nodding at this, standing from the table, shooting finger guns toward the stunned boy still sitting. He’s a different type of enchanting, and Chanyeol can’t really believe that he’s real, that he’s pursuing him, that there’s a reason for them to interact at all. 

 

“Can you tell the details to Baekhyun when you leave? I have to go to class,” he smiles again, and Chanyeol’s nodding out of instinct, still shocked from today’s turn of events. “See you tomorrow, Yeol!” 

 

And he’s walking back to Baekhyun, exchanging knowing looks with the boy. Chanyeol watches as Baekhyun smiles goofily at Jongin, moving to cup the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he’s gone, and he’s left just staring at Baekhyun’s smile, at the way he glows against the backdrop of books and filing cabinets. 

 

_ Shit _ , he realizes. There’s an extremely charismatic guy after his ass, they’ll see each other tomorrow, and he’s not even sure he’ll be able to actually hold a conversation with him. At least Baekhyun will be there, after all -- that should calm the situation down and make him more comfortable, he hopes. 

 

\-- 

 

_ Discover the mysteries of the moon’s surface _ , the sign reads -- it’s outlined in white paint, filled in with glitter, and has obviously been rolled up many times before. It’s cute, and Baekhyun points to it as he and Jongin walk toward the clearing where the viewing party is set up.

 

There are three telescopes across the lawn, and they’re all much larger than Baekhyun was expecting, honestly. In his head, it was a slender cylinder that could be made smaller, like the ones he’d always imagined pirates using. But scientific telescopes are on a new level of technology than what he could’ve conceived, and it leaves him staring at the scene in front of him in shock. 

 

“Will we even be able to find Chanyeol here?” Baekhyun’s asks quietly, eyes scanning the moderately sized crowd for said boy. Pink hair and extreme height should help, but it’s just dark enough that his best bet is squinting and hoping to run into him. 

 

“Call him, then.” 

 

“And how exactly am I supposed to have his number?” 

 

Jongin gives him a look of disapproval, mouth pouted. “I told him to give you the specifics about tonight. I  _ assumed _ he’d just ask for your number to text you.” 

 

Baekhyun shrugs, unsure about the probability of Jongin’s assumption, and squints harder into the crowd. “Oh!” 

 

There he is -- the boy with the navy blue shirt and rose petal hair crouched down next to a telescope. It seems like he’s guiding the girl looking through and explaining what she’s seeing, large hands flailing around in the air with his excitement. That’s  _ cute _ . 

 

“Oh, god. He’s really cute when he’s in his element. Maybe we should leave after all.” 

 

“Baek, why are you freaking? We literally became friends because I thought you were trying to flirt with me. You say and do shit that gives people the wrong idea  _ all _ the time, and now you’re scared because he likes to talk about the stars?” 

 

Baekhyun ignores that response, pushing forward out of pure spite -- sure, Chanyeol makes him shyer than he usually is, and, sure, it’s weird for Jongin to comprehend, but he’s not going to be a chicken now, not after Jongin’s completely called him out for it. 

 

“Don’t be nervous,” Jongin’s hand trails to touch his elbow, gently climbing until it rests on his shoulder as they walk. “Just have a good time. Discover the mysteries of the moon, or whatever.” 

 

Chanyeol’s leaning away from the telescope when Baekhyun first notices how he glows in the moonlight, light pink hue radiating around him like a halo, peachy cheeks and soft lips outlined by shadows. He’s so pretty, he thinks, so captivating. Baekhyun wonders if his hands would feel softer in this light, if his voice is smoother, if his smile shines brighter. 

 

“Chanyeol!” Jongin shouts it, disconnecting his arm from Baekhyun’s shoulder and waving it instead. “We made it!”

 

He smiles and waves in response, eyes going immediately to Jongin and his loud voice, studying the structure of his face against the moonlight. When Chanyeol’s eyes fall to him and turn to crescents, it’s hard to feel sad, even if a nagging suspicion that he’s an afterthought still lurks in the corners of his mind. 

 

_ Don’t _ be jealous of Jongin, he tells himself -- don’t be mean just because he’s striking and charismatic, just because Chanyeol’s breath was already taken away by the time he turned to you. 

 

“Hey! I’m glad you guys made it,” Chanyeol’s cheeks are as pink as his hair, and Baekhyun marvels in the way his large hands latch together nervously. “There’s snacks, if you guys want any. I recommend the fruit platter, made by yours truly.” 

 

Chanyeol laughs lightly at his own words, and it’s then that Baekhyun notices his dark blue shirt is embroidered with constellations. He could weep at the sight. 

 

They’re ushered toward the small table of snacks and, after acquiring a hearty platter of fruit, veggies, and mini sandwiches to share, they all three end up sitting on a checkered picnic blanket further down the lawn. He and Jongin on one side, and Chanyeol sitting with his back to the moon facing them. 

 

Baekhyun looks around, noting all the groups of friends and couples throughout, each appearing like tiny bunches of flowers sprouting in a frothing sea of grass. 

 

“So, you just really like stars?” Jongin asks through a mouthful of grapes, catching a chewing Chanyeol off guard. Baekhyun watches him startle at the question, soaks in the sparkle his eyes cast across the blanket, even with a lack of light from the moon. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” he coughs. “One second.” 

 

Chanyeol covers his mouth with a large hand, and Baekhyun studies it for a moment too long. Before he can help it, they’re making eye contact, and Baekhyun can’t look away, not when Chanyeol’s staring back, too. At this point, even Jongin has noticed, his shoulder brushing Baekhyun’s innocently as if to say  _ speak up, idiot. _

 

“Is your major related to astronomy?” Baekhyun splutters, relying on pure adrenaline to keep him coherent. “You seem too knowledgeable for it to just be a hobby.”

 

Chanyeol swallows, finally, and the hand is removed from his mouth -- good, Baekhyun thinks, because he would’ve stared at it again, and it would’ve been bad.  

 

“I’m actually majoring in astronomy with an interest area of cosmology,” he stops for a moment and, after carefully considering the looks on both Baekhyun and Jongin’s faces, supplements what he’s said. “Creation and evolution of the universe. And a lot of other stuff too, but it’s all about the universe and our place in it. It’s kind of boring unless you like thinking too hard and ruining things for yourself.” 

 

He’s so proud of it -- it’s clear as the stars in the sky, as clear as the affection that Baekhyun feels boiling in his blood. Chanyeol is in his element and he’s  _ proud _ , and it makes his heart swell. 

 

“That makes international relations sound corporate and boring,” Baekhyun jokes, and then he pinches Jongin playfully, his most subtle way of asking for help in keeping the conversation going. “Statistics, too. Why aren’t we contemplating the meaning the of life?”

 

“Do you host a lot of these?” Jongin pipes up, and Baekhyun sighs in relief. “Or did we just get really lucky with the timing?”

 

Chanyeol smiles and points behind him, vaguely toward the sky. The spring breeze is cool and crisp, the air fragrant from all of the flowers blooming, and Baekhyun’s head turns to stare into the black expanse above them, slightly entranced. 

 

“It gets cloudy pretty easily, and for nights focused on the moon, we have to wait until it’s in a phase that’s satisfying to see. I may appreciate a waning crescent, but people who bring their kids want a full moon, so it can be tough to schedule.” 

 

Baekhyun can slowly feel Jongin drifting away from him physically, but he ignores it, eyes transfixed on the sky and Chanyeol’s soothing voice. 

 

“I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick,” Jongin pats him on the shoulder, and Baekhyun gets the message loud and clear -- he’s being left alone with Chanyeol. He gulps and blinks as slowly as he can, knowing that a moment like this is something he would daydream about in the library, something he thought could only happen in an alternate world. 

 

“It’s back toward the --” 

 

“Oh, I know, I think I saw it when I came in,” Jongin cuts the tallest boy off, stretching as he tiptoes off of the checkered blanket. “Thanks.”  

 

Baekhyun finally looks away from the darkness hung above them, focusing on Chanyeol’s face as he watches Jongin walk away, a mixture of confusion and hurt. Baekhyun should feel angry, should feel nervous -- instead, he feels an odd sort of peace when he’s sitting alone with Chanyeol, even if the taller’s eyes are focused on the disappearing figure of his friend, even if there’s something unnerving and new about this environment and their solitude.

 

It’s silent, almost awkward, but then Baekhyun catches his eye again, and that tranquility happens once again. He’s comfortable, so comfortable, and he can’t understand why, especially since Chanyeol has never failed to make him fluster. 

 

“Does the universe ever end?” 

 

Chanyeol smiles at him, shrugging almost humorously, and raises his arms above him again. Instead of letting them fall back to his side, however, he keeps them up as he leans back toward the ground, head landing softly in the grass. 

 

And, oh god, he wants to lay down too. He wants to slip out of his shoes and feel the grass against his toes, wants to listen to Chanyeol explain why there are rings around Saturn, why there are stars in his eyes if he’s only a human. 

 

“The universe is always expanding. So, I guess there could be an end, but we’d have to run really fast to catch it.” 

 

Baekhyun laughs and inches toward him, feeling emboldened by the faint light and Chanyeol’s silly explanation. 

 

“You didn’t _ have _ to make it easy for stupid people to understand, but thanks,” Baekhyun’s leaning down to look at the sky too, a full foot apart from Chanyeol, his head situated by the tall boy’s calves. 

 

“Okay, since I’m talking about scientific things, you tell me about what you said in the library that one time,” Chanyeol’s voice drifts over him, burying itself in his chest, pooling around his lungs and heart. “Why do you think I’m a hufflepuff? We’ve barely talked.” 

 

Baekhyun giggles too loudly, muffling it with a hand barely a second later, and Chanyeol mimics him in laughter. 

 

“Because you looked nice. That’s it. You’re just nice,” he can’t see it, but he knows the taller is smiling. “Maybe, subconsciously, I just wanted you to dye your hair bright yellow; I can’t be sure anymore.”

 

Chanyeol laughs this time and it booms around them, makes the black sky explode with colorful supernovas and shooting stars, makes Baekhyun’s pulse jump to life. 

 

“I haven’t tried yellow yet, actually. Maybe that’s next on the list.” 

 

Baekhyun wants to interject with  _ no, you need to dye it deep red because that’s the color I picture when I daydream about holding your hand and walking through a museum.  _ He stays quiet, letting himself fall back into the trance of tranquility and nothingness, into the black sky and the soothing sound of Chanyeol’s breathing. 

 

“Is Jongin okay, you think? It’s been a while.” 

 

Oh, that hurt a little. Baekhyun’s sitting up, shrugging casually, and trying to ignore that tightening feeling in his chest. Out of habit, he checks his phone, seeing only two texts in his notifications bar. 

 

**Nini**   
_ forget i exist!! have fun!!!! _

 

**Nini** **  
** _ try your best to ~discover the moon’s surface~ _

 

“Oh, he’s left,” Baekhyun hates that Chanyeol launches up at that, eyes wide with shock. “I think some of the food really disagreed with him.” 

 

“I feel really bad, especially since he --” the taller stops, shutting his mouth carefully, slowly in an almost comedic way. Baekhyun isn’t quite getting the full picture here, but he realizes suddenly that there’s something between Chanyeol and Jongin that he’s not privy to. “Well, since he asked about the club in the first place. I’m sure you know what I mean.” 

 

“Yeah, I do.” 

 

He doesn’t, but he’s scared to ask, knowing all too well that Chanyeol won’t give him any answers anyway. 

 

“I don’t know when I’ll see him next, so can you tell him I’m sorry his night was ruined? I do feel awful. He --” Chanyeol stops himself again, and Baekhyun can clearly see that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “He was probably excited, that’s all. I should’ve been a better host and made sure the food was all good.” 

 

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry.” 

 

He smiles at the taller, worried that this has made their moment turn sour, that Chanyeol will want to abandon him now that the better half of the pair has left. Without Jongin, Baekhyun loses appeal, and his fears are only confirmed when the pink-haired boy starts to stand, messily clearing his hair of grass and twigs. 

 

“Well, I --” 

 

“Don’t you want to see the moon?” Chanyeol doesn’t let him finish, and Baekhyun just stares up at his tall figure in the moonlight, a striking boy with vibrant hair and eyes that don’t look at him differently when Jongin is gone. His heart pounds loudly in his ears, and he knows he’s gone completely red from this visual, from Chanyeol’s dark eyes staring at him.

 

“The moon?” Baekhyun remembers the large telescopes, remembers Chanyeol crouched down next to someone, delicately explaining each phenomenon available to the eye. “Yes, yes, I want to. I’ve never seen it through a telescope.” 

 

“Let’s go then,” he smiles and turns on his heel. 

 

Baekhyun sees the moon, and he’s enchanted -- suddenly, he understands why so much poetry is dedicated to it, why its imagery invokes joy, romance, sadness, and much more. It’s much brighter than he’d expected, almost too bright, and he stumbles back at the white reflection that hits him, relishing in the tiny laugh that Chanyeol lets out. 

 

“Yeah, that happens a lot, don’t worry,” there are warm hands pushing him forward again, so gentle that Baekhyun fears he might’ve dreamed them all along. “Do you see some of the regions where it’s really dark? Those are lunar maria. They have really cheesy names like sea of tranquility, fertility, clouds, etc.”

 

Baekhyun gets lost in the sound of Chanyeol explaining little details to him, falls into a trance of his barely-there hand guiding him. It feels more natural than any note he’s ever written, than any of the times he’d tried to make small talk in the library. Being with Chanyeol doesn’t require planning and flirtiness, doesn’t need to be a master plan like Jongin had suggested -- being with Chanyeol is just tiny laughs and stupid questions and feeling like he could listen to nothing for hours, could picture the earth expanding with him and Chanyeol on it, side by side, lost in nothing.  

 

Maybe he doesn’t need Chanyeol’s heart to be on his sleeve, and maybe he doesn’t need to write him love notes and worry about being nervous -- maybe he wants to learn Chanyeol from the inside out, wants to map him like a constellation until, one day, they align. 

 

\-- 

 

The notes stop. 

 

Jongin had made his move, Chanyeol supposes, so there was no point in leaving more. Chanyeol isn’t sure how to feel about the lack of notes, about the lack of Jongin, but he adjusts nonetheless. It doesn’t take long to make his new normal -- he sits down at his usual table, studies for a few hours, talks with Baekhyun about nothing and everything and anything, and then he sits down until his legs need to stretch again.

 

At least, that’s what he tells himself, though he knows he simply wants Baekhyun to tell him more about his current novel, about the fantasy anime he can’t stop watching. He wants Baekhyun to compliment his hair, however faded and gross it looks (which, right now, is a sickly pink-brown combination, in his opinion -- Baekhyun says it brings out the brown in his eyes, and he chooses to believe him.) 

 

It’s not that he truly  _ needs _ an excuse to go see the boy at the desk, but there’s the awkward absence of Jongin since the viewing party that weighs on the back of his mind, making him feel guilty for something he has no control over. There was no reason for him to  _ not _ feel attracted to Jongin, for him to feel as though those notes were merely little thoughts, faintly insincere when paired with his sharp jawline and confident eyes -- but he does. Something doesn’t connect Jongin’s actions and the notes, despite his mind chanting  _ it’s Jongin it’s Jongin it’s Jongin. _

 

It doesn’t make sense, and it makes him mad at himself, angry at the way his brain easily forgets his absence, the way he overlooks chances to ask about the boy’s well-being, to continue any semblance of what he  _ should _ have with Jongin. It doesn’t make sense, but one thing is perfectly clear: there is nothing in his heart or mind that screams for Jongin. He  _ should  _ want him, he reminds himself, and Chanyeol’s stomach boils in guilt once again. 

 

“You don’t have to force yourself to like someone just because they like you,” Kyungsoo points out simply. “Writing someone notes doesn’t guarantee a romance. And inviting them to a club event doesn’t mean you lead anyone on.” 

 

They don’t see each other much outside of Starbucks, but when they do, Chanyeol confides things he’s not sure he should -- things that he doesn’t want to burden Jongdae with, things that come out as foolish when explaining it to an extremely close friend. 

 

He looks around the restaurant carefully, ensuring that no one associated with his story is present and, satisfied, he nods. 

 

“I don’t know if I feel  _ obligated _ , I just feel really bad because he left so quickly, and because I didn’t even feel _ that _ bad when he did because -- ugh, I don’t know. I just feel guilty.” 

 

Kyungsoo shakes his head softly, munching on his pasta and taking another sip of water before he can continue his thought. 

 

“Emotions aren’t forced, that’s the whole point. If you’re feeling bad because you didn’t miss him after he’d gone, you obviously aren’t interested,” Kyungsoo raises a thick eyebrow, and Chanyeol feels exposed. “It isn’t because you have someone else in mind, is it? It’s not a crime to have an existing crush when someone new confesses to you.” 

 

He wants to refute that but, when he thinks about Jongin’s chic air and charming smile, he’s impressed and intimidated, but no amount of happiness climbs its way to his eyes, no roses bloom in his cheeks. When he thinks of nimble hands that fumble with books and tiny mouths that talk about knights and princesses and magical weapons, however, he suppresses a smile with a bite of his sandwich. 

 

“This is going to sound callous, but it works -- my queen herself said it. The KonMari method, Chanyeol, I’m telling you. Look at the boy who wrote you notes and ask yourself, does this spark joy?” 

 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re saying this right now,” Chanyeol stifles a laugh, mostly out of fear of spitting his food across the table. “That’s for books and clothes, not  _ people _ .” 

 

“Keep insulting the method, and one day I’ll decide being nice to you and making you delicious coffee doesn’t spark much joy for me,” Kyungsoo’s voice is serious, his face anything but. 

 

Chanyeol thinks he might choke on this bite from laughter, all anxiety from earlier evaporating. ”Hey, stop laughing. You’re on thin ice, Chanyeol. Watch out.”  

 

\--

 

Despite majoring in all things space, Chanyeol had never actually sat through an entire Star Wars movie -- and Baekhyun, upon hearing this, was speechless. (So was Minseok, but then he’d closed his mouth and kept on his rounds, leaving Sehun in stitches.) 

 

One little conversation and three knowing looks from Sehun later, Baekhyun is staring at his phone, at the contact and the message that comes along with it. Chanyeol’s texted him his address, and they’re going to spend the night watching sci-fi movies and eating popcorn. 

 

Baekhyun should be nervous, really, he should be shaking, but the odd wave of calm keeps him from panicking. Chanyeol is cute and all he’s dreamed of, true, but he can also be both kind and annoying at times, as he’s come to find. There are sides to Chanyeol that he only sees through the lens of friendship, that make the one-dimensional dream boy in the library seem lifeless and boring, much more of a daydream than a real crush. 

 

Chanyeol is made up of so much more than friendly comments and bright hair, and Baekhyun wouldn’t trade the goofy side, the tired side, the annoyed side, for any side of the Chanyeol he’d first admired and adored. 

 

When he steps in, Baekhyun isn’t surprised to see the clutter all around, having heard about Jongdae’s perpetual affliction with dropping his belongings in the exact spot he stopped needing to use them. Minutes later, when Baekhyun is wrapped up in a large blanket that Chanyeol assures is clean, they turn on the TV and sit in complete silence.

Having seen this one a million times over, Baekhyun allows himself to zone out like he had that night in the field, staring at the tiny glimpse of the universe he’s offered. Except this time, he zones out by studying the worn rug in the middle of the floor, the posters and syllabi that plaster the walls, the fake height measurements drawn on the wall that make it seem as though Jongdae and Chanyeol have been roommates since they were six years old. 

 

He only zones back in when Chanyeol is saying something to him in an annoyed tone, eyes rolled so far back in his head that Baekhyun fears for his brain. 

 

“Did he just refer to parsecs as if it’s a measurement of  _ time _ ? As in, ‘it’ll take five parsecs to get there?’” Chanyeol shoves popcorn in his mouth, chewing angrily. “A parsec is a measure of  _ distance! _ ” 

 

Baekhyun laughs loudly, relishing in the way Chanyeol stares at him in both annoyance and wonder, eyes softening despite the volume of his voice. 

 

“Listen, I can look past all the obvious science they’re butchering, but misusing a parsec? I draw the line, Baekhyun.” 

 

There it is -- that peaceful feeling, that happiness that bubbles inside when the taller says his name. It’s stupid and sudden and rushes to flood his veins with something that feels an awful lot like a real crush, not simple infatuation, not a daydream when he’s bored during work. This is the real Chanyeol, and he likes him so much, dwindling pink hair and all. 

 

“What color are you going for after this fades completely?” 

 

Chanyeol purses his lips, obviously still being a baby about the petty, ridiculous error in the movie, but moves wide hands up to ruffle his hair anyway. 

 

“I don’t know,” his tongue darts out, licking at his bottom lip, and Baekhyun unabashedly watches it, too caught up in the way it feels to be here to care much. “Why? Do you have a color in mind? Obviously I’m up for whatever. It’s my thing to destroy my scalp, I guess.” 

 

“Whatever you want. You could even do black, honestly -- if you want to stop destroying your scalp for a little bit. Don’t know if I’d recognize you, though.” 

 

Baekhyun knows that it comes across as a joke, knows that there’s a bit of humor in Chanyeol’s eyes when he turns to him, but the tone of the room still shifts. There’s a current running under the pair, something that both can sense but neither can place. Baekhyun wants to hope, eyes flitting from Chanyeol’s nose to eyes to lips. 

 

“I don’t do it for attention, you know,” his eyes are so dark, and Baekhyun watches colorful lights dance across his face from the television, blues and pinks and reds that twirl around his features, illuminating his skin. 

 

“Your hair?” Baekhyun takes a sip of his hot cocoa, and hopes the steam will be a passable reason for the pink tainting his cheeks. He’s never ogled Chanyeol this openly, not with permission from the taller -- it’s exhilarating, and he doesn’t want to stop. He’s scared to stop. 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, and Baekhyun likes the way the barely-pink strands synchronize with the movements of his shoulders, with the sigh he lets out. “I just like the colors. I think it’s fun. I don’t know why some people assume things, I guess.” 

 

“I like your hair, but I also like you,” Baekhyun feels as though he sounds reminiscent of the notes he’d shyly left weeks ago, fears that Chanyeol will realize it suddenly and their fragile friendship will be compromised for something worse. “They’re not the same thing, I mean -- you can’t judge just because --” 

 

“I know what you mean,” Chanyeol’s smiling and he’s so close, eyes shimmering from the light surrounding them, eyes trailing all over Baekhyun’s face.

 

He can’t breathe, can’t think, because all he sees are soft lips and eyes closing, Chanyeol’s body leaning toward him as softly as possible. Baekhyun is scared to move forward, afraid to shatter this moment in time, knowing that Chanyeol’s intentions are as delicate as the light pink curl that brushes against his forehead. 

 

It’s this contact that breaks something between them and, before Baekhyun can close his eyes and meet Chanyeol’s lips in the middle, the taller is pulling back violently, nervously. He’s practically jumped back to his side of the couch, and Baekhyun wants to cry when he sees the panic on his crush’s face. 

 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol sputters and turns back to the movie. Baekhyun isn’t quite sure if the shakiness in his voice is his fault or not, but he blinks staccato and hopes Chanyeol doesn’t notice the tears of embarrassment welling up in his eyes. 

 

“It’s okay,” he laughs, truly, truly hoping that there’s no thickness in his voice to alert the taller. “It happens. Don’t worry.” 

 

It’s clear that he needs to leave, needs to escape this moment, this tender fear in his heart that refuses to quit aching, the sadness pooling in his stomach. He feels sick and dejected, feels as though there was something wrong with him -- Chanyeol’s face of pure panic was enough to know how he was regarded in the boy’s eyes. 

 

“I’m actually getting tired, so I’ll get going if that’s okay,” he throws off the blanket, saying goodbye to the warmth it held, to the smell of laundry detergent wrapped around him. “See you at the library.” 

 

And it can’t get much worse, not when Chanyeol refuses to speak to him, refuses to acknowledge the nasal of Baekhyun’s voice, the tears that are obviously lurking behind his awkward persona. But it does get worse because, for some reason, Chanyeol finally speaks up. 

 

“Have you seen Jongin lately? There’s another star party next week, and, I don’t know, maybe we could all --” 

 

Baekhyun leaves without answering him, desperate tears finally clawing their way from his eyes, a pitiful whimper escaping from somewhere deep inside his chest. He wishes it didn’t hurt, but it does, so instead he wishes that he’d never written those stupid notes in the first place.

 

\--

 

Chanyeol feels the eyes on him when he sits down, feels Baekhyun looking away as soon as he picks his head up in return. He feels their relationship shift, feels the smaller drawing away from his small talk, looking around the library frantically once again, fingers strumming along to the soothing music he’s always playing. 

 

Even when he makes mention of the star party (Jupiter and some constellations, he explains to Baekhyun’s vacant stare) and the boy nods that he and Jongin will be there, it feels empty and sad and he wishes he’d have just  _ done _ it. 

 

He’s positive he could live with the regret of kissing Baekhyun, but he’s not sure he can live with the regret of not kissing him, of ruining the way the smaller boy perceives him. Long gone are the honey glazed eyes, the fond stares, the tiny conversations. 

 

He hopes that the smile Baekhyun gives him as he leaves is genuine, though he knows that it’s not. He also hopes that the lingering feeling in his chest isn’t the result of shattering more than just a friendship, that he can piece it back together when he sees him next. 

 

\--

 

Chanyeol hates the way the moon shines against Baekhyun’s cheekbones, detests the way he doesn’t even notice Jongin’s voice in the background, covering the awkward silences with his vivacious voice. 

 

He feels foolish for letting himself explain the rings around Saturn so close to Baekhyun. He keeps his hand from ghosting over the smaller boy’s shoulders like he had with the moon, overly cautious and aware of Jongin’s eyes scanning his every move. He’s scared that Baekhyun will jump away at the touch, that Jongin will notice, that his own inner turmoil will boil over. 

 

There’s no good way for him to behave -- he looks at Baekhyun and sees the infinite universe he’s always wondered about, the kind of stars and planets and moons that he’d marveled at. He looks at Baekhyun and sees an unexplored horizon, a glimmering version of his own reality reflected in the eyes of this celestial boy. 

 

He looks at Jongin and sees the notes splayed across the table, sees the guilt of ignoring and forgetting him too easily, of favoring his friend instinctively. He is an awful person for hurting Jongin, for lying to himself about Baekhyun, for inviting them both after all of this.

They’re back on a checkered blanket, this time an obvious division made between him and Baekhyun, Jongin directly in the middle of them. Chanyeol wonders whether the tan boy knows what happened between them, if he can feel the tension as it ebbs and flows between them, distant waves on distant shores.

 

“How are your classes going?” he asks it because he needs to fill the void of silence, needs to hear Baekhyun’s voice responding to him no matter how trivial the context. 

 

“I almost failed my exam two days ago,” Jongin’s voice is annoyed, the wound of this near-failure obviously still fresh. “The TA handed me a version of the test that didn’t match with the answer sheet, so I had to transfer all my answers at the last minute. It was ridiculous.” 

 

Baekhyun pouts at that, and Chanyeol watches him do it, pleading for their eyes to connect, for there to be something swimming in the shorter’s that tells him  _ I don’t hate you, I promise. _

 

“God, that’s awful. That’s the kind of thing I’m scared I’ll do next semester. I’m so absent minded sometimes, and I’m a little paranoid,” Baekhyun’s body language and voice is directed most obviously to Jongin, but Chanyeol doesn’t miss the split second where Baekhyun looks to him.

 

“You’re going to be a TA next semester?” Chanyeol ventures to ask, voice quiet and soft. 

 

Baekhyun stops playing with a blade of grass, head snapping up to look straight at him -- Chanyeol loses all grasp on what he wanted to say next.

 

The lighting, the way his lips part when he realizes they’re interacting again, the flash of Baekhyun’s soft face so close to his. It’s all coming back so quickly, so violently, and Chanyeol wants to apologize again, wants to try over and make up for it with a gentle kiss on his lips, just as he’d so wanted that night. 

 

“Yeah, I really hope so,” the tiny smile on his face seems genuine, and Chanyeol’s heart soars with relief. “It’s for a professor I’ve had before, and he really likes me, so I think I have a chance. He’s supposed to call in the next few days, actually.” 

 

And it’s silent again, but this time it feels less stilted, less suffocating. Chanyeol thinks of what to say next, debating whether he should speak to Baekhyun again or check in on Jongin, too scared of making either uncomfortable. Kyungsoo’s words ring in the back of his head and, deep down, he understands that he’s never wanted Jongin, never seen the galaxy in his eyes, never felt like the warmth of a star from being close to him. 

 

“Oh my god,” Baekhyun’s moving, hands scrambling with his phone. Chanyeol can see the caller ID, can make out the beginning of the word professor, can immediately understand the gravity of this call. “I’ll be back. Oh, god, okay.” 

 

He scrambles to stand, tripping over the blanket and Jongin’s legs -- both of the taller boys laugh as he accepts the call, Chanyeol using this distraction to stare at the outline of his slim figure against the stars, to watch the soft movement of his lips as he answers. 

 

“Allô?” his voice is deeper when he speaks a foreign language, Chanyeol realizes, intrigued. 

 

French, he thinks -- Baekhyun is speaking perfect french as he answers a call from a (presumably) French professor. The tallest boy watches Baekhyun jog away from the checkered blanket altogether, disappearing into the darkness of the night, taking his sanity on the way out.

 

Suddenly, too many things are connecting at once, a rush of fear and joy and anxiety crushing him under their weight. The soft handwriting, the shy smiles, the library, the coffee, the notes, the boy who outshines all of the stars in the sky. It matches, and he feels stupid, so unbelievably stupid.

 

“Baekhyun knows French?” Chanyeol’s voice comes out in a way he hadn’t meant, and Jongin looks at him confusedly, sharp eyes turned judgemental in an instant. 

 

“Baekhyun knows  _ everything _ ,” Jongin says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and his breath mingles with the air in front of them, eyes glittering along with the moon. “He’s majoring in international relations, but he’s also taking a ridiculous amount of romance languages. He wants to be a translator in Europe, he says. Has he never told you?” 

 

Suddenly, everything comes crashing down -- he’s realizing things a little too late, hands sweaty. Of course, it had been Baekhyun -- it had  _ always _ been Baekhyun.

 

“And you?” his hands are shaking, and maybe his voice is too. He can’t tell anymore. 

 

“What do you take me for? I’m too busy trying to figure out equations to deal with languages that aren’t Korean. Only Baekhyun could be obsessed with learning way too much at a time.” 

 

Looking at Jongin, really looking, Chanyeol feels an odd kind of thankfulness spreading through his veins before finally reaching his heart, calming it. He’s handsome, really, but Chanyeol’s relieved to realize that he doesn’t have to love tan angles and full lips, doesn’t have to look into Jongin’s eyes and try to find the hidden stars and comets. 

 

“It wasn’t you who left the notes?” Chanyeol knows that Jongin is looking at him as though he’s crazy, definitely uncomfortable with where this conversation has traveled. “It really wasn’t?” 

 

“ _ What  _ are you talking about? Of course not,” Jongin tries to speak again, but Chanyeol is already nodding and getting up from his position on the blanket, heart racing once again. “Chanyeol, what --” 

 

He moves into the darkness, looking for the smaller boy, looking for that shining smile and those little hands. He’s been so awful, he’s misunderstood so much, and there’s nothing he wants more than to make things okay -- he needs to find Baekhyun, needs to explain what was happening. 

 

There’s an entire speech prepared in his head detailing his misunderstanding, his foolishness, his real feelings, and too much more, but it all evaporates when he finds Baekhyun leaning against a tree, phone in his hand and smile on his face. From the beaming smile and red cheeks he’s sporting, the taller can see that he’s blissful, so proud of himself for getting the position. 

 

It makes Chanyeol’s stomach turn, makes his hands ache to brush soft black hair out of the shorter’s face, to keep that smile forever intact. He has never wanted to protect someone more, and it’s overwhelming.

 

He has no plan, really, as all of his eloquent words had dissipated the second the reality of Baekhyun’s feelings and beauty and intelligence hit him. Instead of his grand scheme (because, honestly, when has it worked out for them?) Chanyeol approaches the smaller boy and says the only thing he can come up with. 

 

“You’re the nicest, cutest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t deserve you, but I want to,” the look on his face is ethereal, and Chanyeol can’t stop thinking about all the times he’s screwed up, all the times he should’ve just said what was on his mind. “Can I kiss you, please?” 

 

Baekhyun doesn’t question it, nodding and letting Chanyeol move toward the tree to shade him from the moon’s light, from the rings of Saturn, from the expanding universe threatening to swallow them whole. They melt together in that tiny space, lips chapped and soft and everything in between, bodies closer than either could’ve ever hoped.

 

Graceful hands touch Chanyeol’s waist gently, and he’s burning and overheating, but then there’s silky hair against his forehead and he’s drowning in a sea of soft, calming water, drowned willingly. Baekhyun makes him feel as if there is no world around them, as if everything can be contained in a sliver of a smile, in a moment of a conversation, in the movement of Baekhyun’s lips. 

 

They move together so gently, so carefully, and it’s beautiful. In Chanyeol’s day to day life, he learns about stars colliding in violence, leaving beautiful displays across galaxies, but this is better -- this is so much better. Two stars dancing around each other, melding oh so quietly, leaving an infinite expanse of light in their wake. 

 

It’s always been Baekhyun, he knows. 

 

\-- 

 

Another spring day for all of campus, another exam for Sehun, and another shift full of restocking shelves for Baekhyun -- despite his job clearly being labeled as a desk position, here he is, standing on the tips of his toes in order to get this book back in its proper place. And he’s almost there, but then there are big hands wrapping around his waist, shocking him into dropping the book directly on the assaulter’s head. And this would’ve been great, had it not been Chanyeol. 

 

He cries out in pain, and Baekhyun yelps in response, swatting Chanyeol’s large hands from the top of his head in order to get a good look at it. No bleeding, he thinks -- he can’t be too sure, since Chanyeol’s hair is a deep red at the moment and blood would mix rather well. 

 

Satisfied with the tiny wellness check, he stands up taller once again, this time to leave a tiny kiss lingering on the faint pink mark at the edge of his hairline. 

 

“Why did you do sneak up on me like that?” he tries to sound annoyed, but how could he be? It’s hard when the taller is looking at him like that, warm hands moving toward him once again, this time in plain sight. “I could’ve cracked your little head open.” 

 

“I was at my table studying, but then I realized that it’d been fifteen minutes and you still hadn’t come back from restocking, so I wasn’t sure if you needed help,” his smile gleams, and Baekhyun squirms from the fondness in his eyes, in the way he talks. “I’m tall, if you didn’t know. I could probably help out.” 

 

It’d been a few weeks since the night Chanyeol had realized the truth, since the night they’d kissed under the stars and talked about all the things they’d misunderstood, all the reasons they’d accidentally hurt each other in the past. Chanyeol still thinks it’s adorable that he was too worried to approach him in the first place, and Baekhyun still laughs at him for imagining that  _ Jongin _ could pull such a stunt. 

 

Those weeks were filled with usual library talks, with shared meals, with tiny naps in the grassy areas of campus, with kisses and cuddling and nights spent at Chanyeol’s where he really hopes Jongdae isn’t home. Each hour spent with Chanyeol is an hour spent not worrying, not being scared. There’s peace within him that spreads to Baekhyun with each brush of his fingertips, with each press of their lips.

 

“I don’t need your help, especially since I know you have an exam in three days,” Baekhyun likes the way his smile disappears and a pout replaces it. “You should go back to your little table and study, okay? We’re hanging out tonight, so you can wait until then to try and hold me.” 

  
Chanyeol ignores his words, focusing instead on the glint in his eye, the tiny smile in the corner of his mouth, shy and giddy all at once. He’s moving closer slowly, eyes lining up with Baekhyun’s exactly as he leans to his level. It’s obvious that he’s trying to make the smaller’s heart flutter, trying to make him lean in and close any distance between them and, god, it’s kind of working. 

 

“What if I just forgot about my exam, and instead we  --” Chanyeol has to stop talking, as his eyes have just crossed completely, leaving him blinking in pain. “Oh, fuck, shouldn’t have done that.” 

 

Baekhyun’s giggling at how stupid he is, at how much he loves it. Chanyeol is silly and dramatic, but he’s also extremely intelligent. He’s a mix of everything, his personality a balance of the boy Baekhyun’s always dreamed of and the boy that he needs -- he’s more than the cute boy who sits in the library and makes Baekhyun’s heart pound. He’s also the one who makes him comfortable with silence, the one who jokes that he’ll find a constellation to match the ones Baekhyun’s moles make, the one who pinches his cheeks and gives Baekhyun all the best bites when they share food. He makes Baekhyun  _ happy _ . 

 

Their quiet laughter dissolves between them as Baekhyun kisses his boyfriend tenderly, fingers moving up to prod at the book imprint on his forehead, tangling with the flames of his hair, and finding their way around the base of his neck gently. Soft and sweet are his kisses, just as gentle as the smiles they share. 

 

Suddenly, there’s a rather loud cough, and Baekhyun turns to see Minseok’s round face peeking around the corner of the bookshelves, his stern expression reminiscent of an overprotective father. 

 

“Hey, I am legally obligated to stop any library canoodling I see,” his voice isn’t fully serious, but there’s still a bite to his tone that makes it seem as though Baekhyun might be looking in the classified ads for new work soon. 

 

When he realizes exactly what’s happening, Baekhyun screams into his hand, pushing Chanyeol away with a force only embarrassment gives him. The taller seems to be in a trance of bliss from their kisses and shock from the interruption, only his large eyes darting between the two coworkers.

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ !” Baekhyun can physically feel all the blood rushing to his face, and he’s sure that, if he locked his knees right now, he’d pass out immediately. Maybe he should try, after all. 

 

“Just don’t do it again, or I’ll have to tell Junmyeon,” Minseok isn’t being completely serious anymore, and Baekhyun watches as he rolls his eyes at the other manager’s name, probably thinking of all the paperwork involved in that situation. “We really do need you back at the circulation desk ASAP, though. So you’re going to have to stop  _ that _ .” 

 

Baekhyun nods and shoos the tallest boy away, knowing that he’ll never really live that down. He’s still calming down from Minseok’s sudden appearance, organizing books on the shelf in a rather dazed manner, when he hears his phone chime off. 

 

**red m &m** **  
** _ need to leave for class soon. come over at 6 tonight? we can actually finish the star wars movie this time!!  _

 

**red m &m **

_ unless you would rather just make out and stuff. that’s fine too idc  _ **  
**  


_ God, _ he makes him happy. 

 

\-- 

 

That night, Baekhyun disregards the movie as quickly as possible, moving to continue the kiss Minseok had interrupted, to finish transferring all the heat and love that fills his heart. Chanyeol gives him peace, and he hopes to bring him some sort of warmth in return. 

 

“Wait, they’re going to talk about the parsecs,” Chanyeol says it against his lips, muffled, and Baekhyun moves to lap at his neck instead, 

 

It’s only been a few minutes, but Baekhyun knows the drill -- knows that both he and Chanyeol don’t want to just make out, that the ratty couch in the apartment must be abandoned in a few short minutes if they’re going to get anywhere, if they want space to hold hands and kiss and experience each other in a way that sparks the walls of Chanyeol’s room, that sets them both alight until they’re only holding onto only each other in a burning world. 

 

They’re stumbling to Chanyeol’s room, Baekhyun overwhelmed with warmth and love being showered on him, with the taller’s big hands holding him up and pulling him closer. As soon as the door is shut behind them, Baekhyun pulls Chanyeol to his chest, letting his mouth rest against the shell of his ear. 

 

It’s stupid, it’s so stupid, but there’s been something he needs to say. Something he needs to get off his chest, especially when he feels Chanyeol’s hands making their way around to grab at his ass, to pull their bodies even closer, if possible. 

 

“Hey, I have to tell you something,” Baekhyun whispers, and Chanyeol shivers from the sheer proximity of Baekhyun’s lips to his earlobe. “When I was a shy little baby and I had a crush on you, I used to daydream a lot.” 

 

Chanyeol’s nodding against his neck, communicating that he understands what’s being said but it too focused on the kisses he wants to leave there to respond. The taller’s tongue runs along his neck, down to his collarbone, and stops -- Baekhyun sees stars, feels Chanyeol’s closeness with every fibre of his being. 

 

“I used to think about us going on a date to an art museum, and you always had dark red hair in it,” Baekhyun gasps at the way Chanyeol’s teeth skim across his chest, at the way they’re moving toward the bed now, and he struggles to breathe enough to get his thoughts out. “So, right now, I know you’re being sexy, but all I can think about is Picasso or something --” 

 

“Shut up, please,” Chanyeol’s caught his lips with his own, and Baekhyun smiles open mouthed against it, laughing at the way the taller is begging him to stop being annoying. 

 

“I’m joking,” they’re laying on the bed, hands roaming and lingering and scratching lightly, tiny marks of adoration, tiny kisses of attraction. “I just thought you’d want to know that I had a  _ really _ big crush on you.”    
  


“Well, I still have a big crush on you, so, checkmate.”    
  


And then talking is over, mouths opening together in familiarity as they explore the other more, fingers and tongues mingling against skin, too primal and too soft all at the same time, the both of them moving together like waves against a shore.

 

Chanyeol’s large fingers play him like an instrument, stringing along both notes and vocals, leaving a melody hanging in the air when he finally finishes his song, silencing it all with a kiss on the lips and a swift movement, completely filling Baekhyun’s body with undeniable warmth. His mind is completely blank, filled with nothing but Chanyeol’s presence and voice, overwhelming him completely.

 

Baekhyun isn’t sure when this flickering flame turns into searing heat, a raging fire. He also isn’t sure when Chanyeol’s tiny compliments and jokes turn into something more incomprehensible, when they become so intertwined that the world seems to crumble around them, but he does know the moment that it gets to be too much. He feels it in every cell of his body, knows its familiarity by the way Chanyeol’s hands pull him closer, tighter. 

 

They feel it together in the end, open mouths attached in a kiss, hands scrambling to bring the other even closer than possible. And then they’re heaving and breathing and spooning, too far gone to care about much more than the shape of the other’s silhouette in the dark and the thought of feeling somewhat complete in each other’s arms. 

 

\-- 

 

Baekhyun wakes up, partially blind. There’s something obstructing his vision and, upon a further sleepy investigation, he sees that it’s a note, very obviously mimicking his own. 

 

_ I have a crush on you. Want to go to the art museum with me?  _

 

Chanyeol isn’t in the room, but Baekhyun doesn’t have to look around too much, as he’s already heard his boyfriend’s booming voice from the kitchen, arguing with his roommate about how to properly cook a soft-boiled egg. 

 

In this moment, he couldn’t be happier, and so Baekhyun drifts back to sleep, satiated with the thought that they have each other to the end of the universe. 

 

\-- 


End file.
